


Speak Each Other In Passing

by bloodfever



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Combeferre is cranky, Courfeyrac Is A Little Shit, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-19 00:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3589674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodfever/pseuds/bloodfever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Combeferre swallows harshly, not going to allow himself to be distracted by the gorgeous elfin man sitting opposite, all dark curls and mischievous grins.  “This is a <i>library</i>.”  He finishes, managing to keep the thoroughly irritated tone in his voice.  It’s a small victory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speak Each Other In Passing

Combeferre is in the library. This should surprise precisely no one, because Combeferre has practically moved into the library. The librarians call him Henri, the _janitor_ calls him Henri. He is pretty sure one of the volunteers is setting aside his books each evening and bringing them out again just before he walks in the door. Combeferre has spent more time in the library this semester than he has in his dorm room, and whilst he does not begrudge Enjolras (or Grantaire) his happiness, he would like to be able to work without being interrupted by a screaming match – or something rather more mortifying.

His senior Proteomics thesis is due imminently; it’s the only assessable portion of the class. Everything, literally, is riding on this grade - including a very lucrative grant for the student scoring the highest mark, and a potential spot in a lab working on his professor’s research team for the summer. Combeferre is determined to get that spot, come hell or highly excitable roommates.

It’s coming down to the wire. Combeferre has lost track of the last time he properly slept, or had a sit-down meal. He is subsisting on catnaps, granola bars, and black coffee. Stalking into the library after his last lecture, he takes his usual table near the wifi hotspot and launches straight into his work. 

He is so engrossed that he doesn’t notice two people sit down opposite him and pull out their own books. He doesn’t notice as they start to murmur quietly about their work, he doesn’t notice when one closes their book with a long-suffering sigh. He certainly _does_ notice when one of the party begins to talk animatedly about queer representation in the Disney franchise, and his already frayed nerves snap.

“Will you either be quiet or move?” He says sharply, looking up for the first time and straight into the eyes of. _Well_. He swallows harshly, not going to allow himself to be distracted by the gorgeous elfin man sitting opposite, all dark curls and mischievous grins. “This is a _library_.” He finishes, managing to keep the thoroughly irritated tone in his voice. It’s a small victory. Blessedly, they move away, and Combeferre is able to resume writing, only occasionally getting distracted by thoughts he would never admit to.

The next day Combeferre is in the stacks, trying to locate a volume of a journal he is _certain_ has been mis-shelved, when he hears two people talking in exaggerated whispers in the next row. Despite their apparent efforts, they are not being quiet in the slightest, and Combeferre is already stressed over the missing volume. He pulls a thick reference book off the shelf at face height, giving him a view into that row, and is hissing “for the love of all that is holy, _shut up_!” when he realises he has come face to face with Mr Mischievous again. The other man simply raises an eyebrow and gives a jaunty salute, exiting the row and disappearing around a corner.

It’s a Friday night, 11pm, the announcement has just come over the loud speaker indicating the main floor of the library was closing and inviting any patrons to move to the after-hours rooms upstairs. Combeferre had been slow off his mark this evening, right in the middle of a crucial argument when he heard the announcement, delaying movement until he got at least the skeleton down on paper. When he was escorted to the after-hours room by the security guard (“Henri, it’s time to move.”) Combeferre found that there was only one available chair left, and it was right next to Mr Mischievous.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath, taking another slow sweep of the room to ensure he hasn’t missed another open seat. “Fuck, fuck, fuckit, fuck.”

“Is there something wrong?” His newfound companion asked, thoroughly amused. Combeferre simply glared back and extracted his laptop from his satchel. They sat in silence for a while, nothing but the soundtrack of their respective keystrokes. 

Combeferre wasn’t making a lot of progress. He found himself looking at the other man’s hands, where his collarbone was peeking out under his tshirt, the way his hair was curling at his nape. Little, furtive glances, that also accidentally landed on the screen of the other laptop more than once. He read more than he should have, considering, and more than enough to realise that Mr Mischievous was actually Mr Completely-Switched-On. Combeferre was sitting next to someone he was finding it increasingly difficult not to respect, and he was uncomfortably aware of how much of a dick he had been over the last several days.

At 3am, the after-hours rooms also closing for the evening, Combeferre and Mr Completely-Switched-On pack up their things and prepare to go their separate ways. Combeferre turns to the other man, opening his mouth to apologise or introduce himself or propose or _something_ , but he is beaten to the punch.

“I’m Courfeyrac,” he said, extending his hand and waiting for Combeferre to take it.

“Combeferre.” He responded, shaking his hand firmly and somehow forgetting to let go. “I’m sorry I have been a little…brusque this week. My thesis is due in-” he checks his watch. “In about 50 hours, actually.”

“Ah,” Courfeyrac winced. “I didn’t realise, if I had known I wouldn’t have been quite so obnoxious about getting your attention with all the noise.”

“You were _baiting_ me?”

Courfeyrac shoved his free hand into his pocket, looking bashful. “Not exactly. I didn’t know how to approach you. The first time was an accident, I got a little overexcited about-“

“Disney. I remember.”

“And then it kind of snowballed. I can make it up to you.”

“Oh?” Combeferre said, smiling in spite of himself.

“I can think of a thing or two which might convince you it can be fun to be loud in a library,” Courfeyrac said with a wink, turning to walk away and tugging gently on Combeferre’s hand. “Are you coming?”

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: _'i'm in the library researching for this giant assignment that's 90% of my grade i haven't slept or gotten anything beside coffee in two days i am going to explode in rage if you don't shut the fuck up this SECOND' au_
> 
> Come say hi at [prometheusatthebarricade](http://prometheusatthebarricade.tumblr.com) :D.


End file.
